pulation consists of actors out of work, theatrical agents, policemen, pickpockets, and ladies of easy virtue.

The public buildings are the Theatre- Royal, of which enough has been said in a former chapter of our series, and the Police Court, to which we are now about to direct the attention of the curious observer of men and man

ners.

We may mention, as a supplement to the above exquisite morceau of topography, that Bow Street in common parlance, is absorbed and swallowed up in its principal significationthat of a police office; a Bow Street officer is a term significant and comprehensible as a Bow Street lounger. If you hear that a friend of yours has been taken to "Bow Street," you may expect nothing less than to have a full, true, and particular account of him in the newspapers; and if a quarrelsome fellow declares that he'll have you up at Bow Street, you must be a devilish slow coach indeed, if you do not try your best to decline the invitation.

A number of sickly-looking women, and pallid gin-faced men, lurking about the doors of an unpretending stuccofronted edifice, indicate the policeoffice; a closed door, inscribed" Magistrates' entrance," and an open door, sufficiently pointing out the public thoroughfares, complete the identity of "Bow Street."

On making his debut, the stranger happy he whose face is a strange face here is immediately assailed by a number of blue-bottles in ordinary, who act the part of touters, imagining that nothing but business could have induced the wayfarer to trust himself in such a frowzy atmosphere:"declaration, sir," "application, sir,"-" speak with the magistrate, sir," assail him at every turn; and it is not without some difficulty that, at length, the student of human character is ushered into the awful presence of the presiding judge himself.

The apartment in which this eminent functionary retails the small wares of justice, is somewhat narrow and incommodious-the least possible space is set apart for the public-barely enough to conform to the theory of our constitution, that the courts shall be open to the meanest subjects; but within the inclosure of imitation oak, there is ample space for the ordinary

business of the tribunal, and a little to spare for those distinguished amateurs who are in the habit of crowding the bench when any criminal of more than ordinary atrocity is brought up for examination.

When we entered, a little, swarthy, but healthy-looking man, gray-haired, of a pleasing expression of face, with twinkling black eyes, occupied the judicial seat. Instead of a wig, as at Westminster, he wore his hat, but was otherwise undistinguished as to costume.

We could not avoid remarking that his worship was a devoted believer in the doctrines of Lavater. Nothing could exceed the scrutiny of his dark eye as it fell upon the evidence in the witness box, or the prisoner at the bar. He glanced from plaintiff to defendant, from prisoner to prosecutor, as he would discover the chance there might be of getting a word of truth out of any of the parties, and around his lips played a peculiar smile-not by any means a sneer, but a smile of easy incredulity, observable only in men who have been accustomed through life to behold in its full development the worser side of human nature-in lawyers especially, and judges.

His worship was attended by the usual subordinate officers-a clerk of court, a dapper, pert, whipper-snapper personage, as magistrates' clerks invariably are; a bottle-nosed clerk of the arraigns, who read the charges against prisoners and the summonses between party and party. In a side box sat three gentlemen, reporters of the public press. Facing the magisterial chair was the felons' dock, guarded by a functionary whose office was sufficiently indicated by a number of keys chained together, and carelessly thrust beneath the lining of his jacket.

A promiscuous lot of ne'er do well men and dilapidated women filled the hutch or pen at the lower end of the apartment. When you have taken notice of a bronzed plaster cast of the original magistrate of Bow Street, on the top of a book case where repose the statutes for the guidance of police magistrates, and have sufficiently admired the gilded royal escutcheon over all, you will have leisure to concentrate your attention upon that lamentablelooking gent, now in the act of disbursing the customary penalty for getting drunk-where the law can take hold

These Spartan youths having failed in an attempt to extract a pocket handkerchief, must pay the penalty consequent on being found out, and are punished for this culpable want of professional dexterity.

of him. How much ashamed he looks -how he averts his eyes from the impudent stare of the vulgar throng, and with what evident reluctance he dribbles out shilling after shilling, then, lifting his hat as much as possible to conceal his chagrin, slinks shamefacedly away.

When the disciple of Bacchus evaporated, the jailer came into court, conducting a little precocious urchin, who seemed about twelve, or at most thirteen years of age, with a pale hungry face, a sharp roving eye, and the most unmitigated impudent expression we ever yet beheld in man or boy. He was dressed in a ragged blue jacket and fustian trousers, in the pockets whereof were thrust his tiny hands. He now and then hitched up his inexpressibles, sailor fashion; and, turning round to the mob, winked with either eye several times, at the same time putting his tongue in his cheek -expressions, as we understood them, at once of his respect for the bench, and of an easy indifference to his present peculiar situation. When the turnkey's eye fell upon him, he assumed an air of ludicrous gravity; altogether, he appeared a thoroughly depraved little rascal; nor did his dialogue with the worthy magistrate at all tend to weaken our first impression.

When the charge was read, and the evidence gone into, his worship addressed the culprit.

Magistrate. I am afraid you are a very bad boy. You have been here before-what was that for?

The magistrate, in consequence of the younger of the two being what is technically called an old offender, sentenced him to imprisonment for one calendar month; the elder, upon receiving the mitigated sentence of a' fortnight's durance, burst into tears, crying out, " Please you, my lord, give me the same as Bil; Bill didn't do no more nor me, nor I didn't do no more nor he-give me a calendar the same as Bill !"

The laughter of the spectators, in which the bench participated, could not be restrained, while this modern Pythias continued blubbering and praying for his "calendar." His worship, however, was deaf to the urchin's entreaties, and the friends were pitchforked unceremoniously out of court.

Another group enter upon the changeful scene-an iron faced master and idle runaway apprentice. Indentures are handed by the former to his lord. ship, and complaint prepared. It appears that, notwithstanding the appren tice ge's fifteen shillings a-week for the work he does while learning his trade, he chooses to absent himself from his master's premises, for the purpose of participating in the diversions of Epsom races. The youth, on being asked to account for his conduct, raises a point of law-namely, that where a premium has not been paid with the boy, masters have no legal controul over their apprentices. This the bench overrules, not without an admonition to the youth for assuming such a line of defence. Turning to the master, his worship asked whether he wishes the boy to be sent to prison, at the same time benevolently deprecating such a conclusion, if it can be possibly averted, observing that a prison is a bad school for any one, much more for an apprentice, and so forth. The master, however, is a hard, inexorable man, and he inclines not to mercy; he leaves matters entirely in the hands of the magistrate. Now, his worship, evidently with pain, sentences the boy (a respectable looking lad) to a month's imprisonment. The female relatives of the culprit open the floodgates of their eyes, and look im

ploringly now at the magistrate and now at the prisoner. The latter is about to be removed, when a poor, hard-working lad slips forward, introducing himself as brother-in-law of the prisoner. He makes an appeal to the bench on the score of the youth of the prisoner, and condemns his conduct; he turns to the master, imploring him not to send the lad to a jail, and disgrace his family: finally, he hopes the magistrate will at least mitigate the sentence; and concludes a prudent, manly, and judicious speech, by offer ing himself as security for the prisoner's future conduct.

The auditory seemed pleased with the propriety of the young man's speech and demeanour. The worthy justice compliments him highly, and reduces the term of imprisonment to seven days. The culprit testifies his gratitude by pulling his forelock, but the affectionate brother-in-law is not yet satisfied; he makes another and more earnest appeal to his lordship to overlook the matter this time, and he will never hear more of it; he points out the boy's mother weeping in the crowd, and insists upon the injury the boy will sustain in his character by having been, even for seven days, the inmate of a house of correction. Although the matter is so trivial, yet the earnestness of the amicus curiæ is so sincere, his affection so apparent, and his tact so considerable, that he has awakened an interest in the Bench; the spectators look as much as to say, we hope your worship will not refuse the petition of this good-hearted fellow. His worship does not refuse; he admonishes the boy in a feeling and impressive, but considerate and friendly, address. He gives the master a hint about injudicious severity; and, having recommended all parties to the performance of the duties in their several relations, not without again taking favourable notice of the conduct of the brotherin-law, dismisses the parties, every body looking pleased and satisfied. It is very pleasing to see justice thus disarmed of its severity, and judges, without compromising their dignity, condescending to mild reproof and wholesome admonition. Sure we are, that the heart must be hard, and the nature incorrigible, of him who would not profit more by a scene like this than by months at the tread mill. Punishment, when severe, defeats the intenVOL. LII. NO, CCCXXI,

tion of its infliction; the good it makes bad, the bad it makes worse. Vindictive in its own nature, it generates vindictiveness; humiliating and disgraceful, it sinks men to the level of humiliating and disgraceful things. We were, therefore, pleased and grateful to the worthy magistrate for the salutary dread he evidently showed of introducing a foolish youth into the contaminating atmosphere of a prison, and of affording him the opportunity of maturing his folly into crime.

66 con

Next enter upon the scene sundry publicans, charged with having jured spirits from the vasty deep" of their cellars, after the hour prescribed by law and superstition, beyond which those etherial essences are not permitted to communicate with mortal lips-that is to say, twelve o'clock at night—a prowling policeman, whose hang-dog countenance is quite enough to carry an instinctive conviction to your mind of his readiness to swear any thing, flippantly kisses the book, and proceeds, in a drawling official nasal tone, to recount-" how, at fifteen minutes past twelve on Saturday night, (here he interpolates the date with much exactness,) as he was a-going of his rounds, he hears the sound of a noise in the house of the defendant, and peeping through the shutters he sees a light; then he knocked at the door, and had to wait till he got in. When he got in, he seed men a-going to bed, and heerd them a-hollering for candles." Upon cross-examination, the fellow's prevarication tallies with his expression of face so exactly, that the worthy magistrate is compelled to dismiss the case, it being quite clear that the inmates were domiciled in the tavern, and that there was no ground for any charge in the present instance.

Exit Boniface rejoicing, and enter a knot of omnibus cads and drivers, charged with violently racing in the public streets: the look of conscious innocence these fellows-the most outrageous ruffians of the town-have the art of screwing upon their carbunculated physiognomies when before a magistrate, is the most amusing thing in the world; it says more eloquent than words, as much as "what a hinjured mortal I is, to be pulled up this here fashion afore the beak, jist for doing nuffin to nobody."

A gentleman of evident respectabi

lity comes forward, and swears that the worthies, now in custody, formed their ponderous vehicles, three abreast, in the Strand, at eight o'clock on the Sabbath evening; that they galloped literally at the top of their speed along half the Strand, was sworn to by several witnesses; and that nothing could have saved the lives of those whose vehicles met theirs, save the course that was adopted of driving out of the way of these reckless vagabonds, upon the footway, to the great terror and danger of her majesty's liege subjects. The case was so gross, that some of the defendants pleaded guilty, and were immediately fined forty shillings each. Some of the most cunning made blundering defences, with a palpability of falsehood perfectly ludicrous.

We

observed, with regret, that those superior scoundrels were not mulcted in a greater sum than the others.

Place aux Dames.-A case of assault comes next, and the bottle-nosed crier introduces Jane Maddox and Mary Davies. Jane deponeth, that by command of her spouse she waited on Mary Davis for the sum of sixpence sterling, due and owing by the said Mary Davis; who, upon demand of the same, called Jane "every nasty name she could lay her tongue to;" and finally, throwing her from the top of the stairs to the bottom, followed her down to bestow upon her a valedictory kick, and so dismissed her with many hard words and bruises, but without the casus belli-the sixpence in dispute. Ladies, on both sides, swore point blank that the assault had and had not been committed, interlarding their evidence with the domestic histories of themselves and families, with a cataract of words no power of bench or officers could oppose, until exhausted nature compelled a brief cessation, Each successive witness agreed in declaring that there was not a syllable of truth in the statement of her predecessor; nothing could be got at but that there was sixpence in dispute somewhere, but all seemed unani

mous in thinking that the sixpence was due to them; and as it was impossible to believe one party more than another, the respective spouses of the belligerents were called upon to enter into recognizances severally and individually to keep the peace.

a

"It's a rummy thing, sir," remarked humorous-looking policeman, whose civility in pointing out to us what was worthy of notice we had occasion to reward afterwards with a drain of beer; "it's a rummy thing that these here women as comes to our hoffice, never by no chance lets out a word agin their own side of the question-no, not when the hevidence goes agin 'em as clear as mud; they keeps talkin' right on end, a perwaricatin' and aggre watin', till his worship's like to bust a stoppin' of 'em; but it isn't no use whatsomdever, and the end of it is, we often has to bundle the whole bilive out o' court; and arter that you'll hear 'em accusin' and aggrewatin' till they gets to Long Acre. I never was over the water myself, sir," continued the servitor of justice," but I shouldn't be surprized if faymale cases wasn't the werry same at Union Hall."

At

Who the little magistrate who presided is, we know not; we never saw him before, and most sincerely hope we may never see him again. But if exemplary patience, which not even the tongues of women can disturb, if great good-nature and benevolence, if a clear head and a feeling heart, be not his portion, then we have studied human nature to very little purpose. all events, if it were our fate to be "had up at Bow Street" upon an unfounded accusation, we hope we may be confronted with his worship; but if guilty, we beg he will at once commit us to the house of correction, for there is a mild severity in his reproofs, and a degree of pain in the discharge of his painful duties, which would cut deeper into our heart, and sink us lower in our own estimation, than the wholesome severities of the tread-mill.

Westminster Hall is a pleasant place enough to those who, like ourselves, have no business there, or, which is the same thing, who cannot get any business. There was a time, indeed, when

we paced its adamantine floor from end to end with high hopes and sanguine expectations; with well fitting wig, flowing stuff gown, clean shave and shirt, white cravat, starched bands,

and law book under our arm, we fondly imagined ourselves of some importance; but a few brief, not as we then thought they would turn out, briefless years, and we should have progressed from stuff gown to silk, and have migrated from the outer to the inner bar; there how sweet the echoes of our sonorous voice resounding through the precincts of the crowded court; how delicious the breathless hush of expectation when we should have risen, and the busy hum of satisfied admiration when we should have sat down again, the fixed attention of the bench, the congratulations of learned friends, the verdicts of juries, the confidence of solicitors, the grateful acknowledgement of clients, the wondering glances of listening crowds were to have been ours, not to mention glittering rouleaus of fees, to which we should, perhaps, have given precedence; then what remains to us but a seat in Parliament, thick-and thin voting with the minister, and behold us at length upon the bench, clothed in sacred ermine, the awful representative of majesty-oracle of law-despiser of the God-like attribute of earthly justice!

Thus exalted, what were we to have been! in eloquence an Erskine, in law a Mansfield, in lucid precision a Lyndhurst, in dignity a Denman, yea, even upon that bench, ambition, we thought, should hunt us still-we should have been the chief among chiefs, and the judge among judges.

Such are the day-dreams, unambitious, and therefore happy peruser, that bubble under frizzled hair; such the aerial phantoms that will cross the inward eye of man that wears a wig; yet how seldom are they realized-how few of these atmospheric chateaux descending, fix themselves to earth and give you unquestionable possession ; ay, and when they are realized, my friends, where is the pleasure that gave anticipation the delight-possession does not show you? Where the freshness of heart, the buoyancy of spirit, the elastic step, the lightsome countenance, of the days gone by, days of your obscurity and your youth, of your struggles and your hope? Alas, if

these accompanied the honour and respect that attend him who is invested with the ermine, gratified ambition would be heaven on earth! Old or young, high or low, there is nothing more gratifying to the mind of man than success honourably acquired, and the successes of the bar are truly splendid. The prominent position of the successful advocate, the everyday publicity given by the press to his exertions, the importance of the interests committed to his skill and care, the pertinence of his legal and forensic ability to the purposes of political life, the number and value of the prizes in his professional lottery; these are the spangles upon the robe of life that attract the eyes of those whose hopes outrun their judgment, and whose expectations are jumped at rather than calculated. Crowds admire the figures upon tapestry-the splendour of the colours, the rich intermixture of its purple and gold; but who turns the array to contemplate the jagged ends of thread, tags of worsted, and unsightly patchwork, of the reversed side of the picture? and yet it is upon this side the artificer sits and works-this is the picture as he sees it--the showy outside is for the spectator. Thus it is that we look upon life; ermine, lace, gold, jewels, rank, fortune, station, ambition, glitter in our eyes, and we envy the good fortune of the possessors, and think they must be happy, seeing but the show side of their lives; yet not a life among them that has not, or has not had, its rags and tags and knotted ends, its wrong side, in short, in which the artisan has not been fingering all his days, until the splendour that he has made becomes distasteful, and only serves to enrich the eyes of ignorant spectators.

Pause, reader, and take off your hat: we are now about to be introduced to the awful presence of the justices of our lady the Queen at Westminster. Stay, there is a full Number's work here: meet us upon this spot a month hence. Good-by for the present. Put on your hat again, virtuous reader, and take care of yourself. Good people are not by any means drugs in the market of society!